Comprehension
by Lightfall
Summary: They are the Capitol's children. The Games are their teacher, their entertainment, their inheritance. But those so young cannot possibly understand something so terrible...


**A note from your author**

Written for the D14 General Prompt "Young". A little strange thing that started off with me wondering about how old Capitol kids get before they realise that what's happening on tv is real.

Anway, on with the show.

**~ Madeleine**

* * *

The child's footsteps fall silently on the luxurious carpet, the door doesn't creak. He enters the room without her even knowing, any noise he does make suffocated by the commentary on the television.

Mimi sits in front of her mirror, getting her makeup off before she goes to bed. It's late, and there's nobody to see her anymore – her husband's already asleep. Here, nobody cares, but in the city, she has to look glamorous. She's a high-profile Capitolite, and she has to be seen to be making _some_ effort, doesn't she?

The last of the sparkly false eyelashes come off easily, and she turns her attention to wiping her face clean, but instinct tells her to turn around, knowing he's there more from sensing the disturbance of the air than hearing him , she needs to get better at hearing, or he'll get scarred for life someday, walking into his parent's bedroom like that. "Do you need something, sweetie?"

The five-year-old wipes a slightly snotty nose with the back of his pajama sleeve. She bought him fancy ones, but he seems to prefer these silly simple ones with the dinosaurs printed on them. Everything in their house is shiny, designer, except their son's clothes and toys. Marissa, the girl, is old enough at eight to already love beautiful things, but he's still happy to grub around. It's a little frustrating. In photos, Mimi is perfect with her seasonal hair and stylish clothes, perpetually tall, while her husband is always sharp and just as handsome as when they first met, Marissa is adorably pastel, her hair in ringlets, and Eric…Eric is always in disarray. He refuses to wear fancy clothes, and gets muck on everything.

Being four, he's very creative when it comes to defining "muck".

"No, no, hun, don't do that. Here." She wipes his face, and realises he's been crying. "Sweetie, what's wrong? What's the matter?"

He sniffles, staring up at her, totally innocent and confused. "I want Bibby back."

Dammit, she'd hoped not to have to have this discussion. Bibby, the stupid overweight rabbit that Marissa and Eric kept, had up and died a day ago. Marissa had wept for hours, but Eric hadn't really understood, just asking confusedly where the fat brown rabbit was.

Ah, well. "I'm sorry, love, but you can't. He can't come back."

The rabbit was a stupid creature, honestly, and he lounged about the apartment as though asking to be trodden on. It wasn't that which had killed him – it was staying out in the sun on the balcony too long. The water had heated up and he'd eventually just passed out. Marissa had screamed when she found him, and begged him to wake up, to stop staring, but the rabbit's eyes were glassy and distant.

"But _why?"_

In the background, the recaps play, counting today's deaths. It was a fairly gruesome day, the most deaths in one 24-hour period since the bloodbath – the Careers came upon the girl from five and the boys from three and eight, who had formed an alliance but were slowly running out of food. They fought like animals, terrified and desperate, scratching and biting, pulling hair. They had only a knife between them, the three, and they were skinny and underfed - the Careers ultimately won, but not before the boy from three managed to sink the knife into one of the Careers – an enormous, powerful eighteen-year-old who always threw herself straight into fights. Turned out that was her downfall.

Eric's still too young to really understand the Games. Hell, he doesn't even understand that his dead rabbit's not coming back.

"Sometimes it happens, love. They leave and they don't come back…they go to sleep and don't wake up."

They've finished the recaps now, listing the names of the tributes that died today and those that were already dead. Fifteen in total. One more and they'll be up to the final eight. Fifteen dead kids.

The one from five was only twelve.

"But can't you just _wake _him up? Can't you make Bibby come back?"

"No, sweetie."

He's crying now, not really believing or understanding what's happened, only hearing "you can't have your rabbit".

Marissa understands the Games, but somehow Mimi suspects that she thinks they aren't real. They're not supposed to discuss the districts, but whenever she does a project in school she has trouble understanding that the people who make their food and their clothes are _real _people. The Games are the same. Whenever someone dies, she'll hide her eyes, whimpering, and then mutter under her breath "it's not real, we're safe". She can't bring herself to watch children die. They got tickets to the tribute interviews once, watched them live on stage. It was different live, watching the kids in the flesh. Everything seemed like a pantomime, obvious and falsely bright, their makeup ridiculous, the clothes contrived. Marissa didn't understand, and left confused, her seven-year-old mind not really letting itself believe that those children were going to die. But die they did, in full colour and surround sound, like every year before that and every year to come.

"B-but why can't he come back?"

"Because that's just the way it is, Eric. It just happens. It happens to – " No, no, don't say that. Don't scare him.

"But _why_?"

Mimi tries to get her thoughts into sentences that a five-year-old will understand. Meanwhile, Caesar Flickerman silently explains the events of the day, betting odds scrolling past, predictions coming in from people all over the city. Then they're interviewing two Junior Gamemakers, someone with teal-coloured hair and someone with a beard, and they're talking about the course the Games are taking. From the laughter, it seems they're not allowed to say much.

Mimi tries to think of something she can say. There's nothing, really, that won't upset him.

"It just does, Eric. I'm sorry."

Eric's expression is pathetic. He's trying to wrap his head around it, and it's not going well. "Where's Bibby now? Is – is he – maybe he's somebody else's rabbit now?"

Inexplicably, Mimi's thoughts turn to the girl from five, Evelyn something, and how young she was. Just a little girl, but gone now. Taken.

Sleeping.

"Yes, Eric," Mimi says, softly. "Maybe he is."


End file.
